I SAW THE BEST MINDS OF MY GENERALIZATION
wearing halos of fog,
opening their eyes with a burst of surreal an’ shattering
the beacon of light
with a splatter of the gray matter… afterwards it all became
so fug’n trite.
I’m phrasing perfect with a hint of propulsive barb’d barkin’
—Man, I am aching to blather,
shit man, it’s more than butt-cheek chatter—
it BBBBBBBBBButt bubbles with a puhcussive tootin’;
a howl absurd!
I raise a cup & say cheers t’ Allen Ginsberg
“O BLOATED BLUES an’ DECIBELS DANCE
t’BALLYHOO’d BE-BOP FLUNG
An’ BOMBS BUSTIN OPEN with Gear’s CLAWING
t’BE AIRBORNE”,
Yes, he SITs IN a SPACE SHARE’d with us;
finger snappin’ & poetry clappin’ from
a heavenly ladder’s rung…
A MAD HATTER’s CHINA TEACUP is filled
with continuous soft crackling liveliness of effervescence…
and buoyed by the holy soul jelly roll that moves
through here now.
So let us praise and bestow upon him,
a heartfelt bow before we etch on the walls
of my primitive pome cave
Our beatnik chorale reverberation of “AND HOW!”
This article appears in July 2014.
